


A Great Deal of Courage, and Anger

by Minutia_R



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I’d heard that </i>are-you-leaving-me?<i> wobble in dozens of voices over the years; the answer was nearly always yes.  But that wasn’t all; Olivia was worried about me, bless her, a High Vor lady suddenly deprived of my home and visible means of support.  What was left of my own dowry was enough for me to live modestly for several years, but modesty had never been one of my virtues, as Olivia knew.  In fact almost all that money had already been spent, or good as.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>“We have to talk,” I said.</i>
</p>
<p>Lady Donna has a proposal for Olivia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Great Deal of Courage, and Anger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cordialcount](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordialcount/gifts).



> Happy Purim, cordialcount!
> 
> Due to the rules of purimgifts, I originally posted this as two stories, but now that the exchange is over and reveals have happened, I'm restoring it to its proper format. I apologize for any confusion.

I didn’t call Olivia first thing after Pierre died. I meant to--well, not first thing, but second, or fifth, at least--there was a lot to do. She called me first, dark blond hair beaded with rain, pink-faced and fresh against the bland background of a public comconsole booth. She had a thing about calling me from home. I never had sisters, only Pierre, but I’ve occasionally lived under the same roof as Byerly, so it seemed like a sensible precaution to me.

“I was so sorry to hear about your brother,” she said. “How are you? What . . . what will you do now?”

I’d heard that _are-you-leaving-me?_ wobble in dozens of voices over the years; the answer was nearly always yes. But that wasn’t all; Olivia was worried about me, bless her, a High Vor lady suddenly deprived of my home and visible means of support. What was left of my own dowry was enough for me to live modestly for several years, but modesty had never been one of my virtues, as Olivia knew. In fact almost all that money had already been spent, or good as.

“We have to talk,” I said.

Olivia pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows, disdained to say, _aren’t we?_ Or else _are you marrying money, or fleeing the planet?_ “When?” was all she said.

“I’ll be in Vorbarr Sultana this evening. Will you come to Vorrutyer House?”

“Before the funeral? Donna--” She closed her mouth on more questions, shook her head. “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” There was nothing else I could say over the com; I couldn’t straighten the collar of her too-sober coat either, or kiss the base of her throat until she closed her eyes with a sigh. I had been up all the night before with Szabo and the other Armsmen, and I had a filthy headache, my eyes were puffy and my throat was sore. I cut the com.

I got a bit of a nap in the lightflyer on the way up to Vorbarr Sultana. I dreamt of my teeth falling out and my face sloughing off, and woke up feeling viler than before. Stephanos took the flyer and the luggage to the shuttleport to make some last-minute arrangements, while Szabo hovered in the neighborhood of Vorrutyer House. My security. I didn’t think I’d need protection from Olivia, though she had won prizes for her marksmanship. Maybe she’d be pleased. A girl could hope.

“You are leaving,” she said, before I even had a chance to get the gates all the way open, forgetting her usual reserve and putting her arms around my waist, her head against my collarbone. “But why so suddenly? I’d have--I will, I will come with you, if you’ll have me.”

I stepped back without letting go of her hands. “I won’t be gone long, love.” The word was still a new one between us; a new one for Olivia at all, I gathered. She gave a helpless little smile and a self-conscious, happy roll of her shoulders. “It’s just I’ve filed a motion of impediment with the Counts against Richars’ inheriting the District, and I’ve only got three months to make it stick.”

Her mouth made an _oh_ of partial understanding. She knew the history between me and Richars. I felt suddenly reluctant to go inside--I had no idea how Pierre had left things in the house, but given his usual housekeeping it was unlikely to make an auspicious backdrop for what I had to say next. I drew Olivia to a bench in the courtyard instead. The few trees there were bare, the green buds of leaves just beginning to unfurl, but it was an unseasonably warm evening and it smelled of spring. Or maybe that was just her. “Olivia--will you marry me?”

I’d always thought that being on the proposing end would make one feel powerful, in control--it really, really didn’t. I was getting it all backwards, and Olivia had started by sitting next to me, hands entwined with mine, but by the time I finished explaining she was at the far end of the bench, looking . . . horrified? But I kept going forward, there was no other way. “Countess Olivia Vorrutyer,” I said. “ That has a nice sound to it, doesn’t it?”

“How about Olivia and Donna Vorrutyer-Koudelka, free citizens of anywhere-but-Barrayar?” She leaned forward, appealingly. “Honestly, what’s keeping you here anymore?”

I snorted. “I’m not exactly a wonderful candidate for emigration. No fortune--if my lawsuit doesn’t work out--no higher education, no marketable skills. Managing a District and having scandalous love affairs don’t qualify me to be anything other than a Barrayaran count.”

“You’re not qualified for that either,” she said, flicking a glance along my body, electric as a touch. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“I will be.”

She stood up, paced jerkily along the path hugging her chest, and looked at me over her shoulder as if she couldn’t bear to face me. “Why? You’re a beautiful, brilliant, capable woman--you could be doing _anything_ \--why would you--would you mutilate yourself--”

“They’re not going to be putting out my eyes,” I said. “Just giving me a cock. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to have one? And don’t tell me you don’t like men, because I know you do. I intend to be a perfectly gorgeous one.”

“Not the point. I don’t like _men_.” She waved her hands, indicating the entire masculine gender, which I had to admit was a nebulous concept to feel attraction for. “I like _you_.”

That was . . . promising? I’d have found it more promising if she didn’t look as if she were about to spit sparks. “I’ll still be me. Just a little different. I’ve always craved variety.”

She flopped back onto the bench with a huff. “And that’s another thing! I don’t mind being one of the fascinating Lady Donna’s many lovers. But damned if I’ll be poor cuckolded Countess Vorrutyer.”

“Traditionally it’s the husband who’s cuckolded,” I pointed out. I reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear; she didn’t move away. “Would you like to? I wouldn’t mind. I know you’d be discreet, and it’s not as if there’s any question of the paternity of heirs, nowadays.” This earned me nothing but a glare. “Is it marriage that bothers you? I can understand _that_. But if I’m going to pull this off, I’m going to need a countess, and I’d like it to be you.”

“It isn’t marriage,” she sighed. “I’d marry Donna whenever she asked. But this Count . . .”

“I’m thinking I’ll go with Dono. It’s not too much of a change, and it’s an old family name.”

She laughed, without much humor. “And the Mad Dono Vorrutyer jokes write themselves.”

That had occurred to me. But hell, there were going to be jokes, and worse ones than that, no matter what. “At least it’ll be on my terms.”

“And everything has to be on your own terms with you, doesn’t it?” Her face was turned away, hidden in the evening shadows, but I could hear the tears in her voice.

I shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “It’s how I’ve survived this long. I’ll tell you one thing: As long as I breathe, Vorrutyer’s District will never belong to dear Richars.”

“Fine. Do you hate Richars, then, more than you love me?”

Not fair. Neither of us was feeling very fair just then. “Don’t start any fights you can’t win, darling,” I said. “Lovers come and go, but Richars is family.”

She stood, and shrugged her shoulders to settle her coat. “Well. I suppose this is my cue to go.”

I leaned my head back against the cool wooden slats of the bench; it was pounding like a bastard. I thought about calling for Szabo, getting a lift to the shuttleport, but I was too exhausted to move. I watched Olivia instead, though it was dark and all I could see from where I sat was a light smudge of hair above a dark smudge of coat at the gate. She was probably fumbling with the keypad; it had always been sticky. I levered myself to my feet and came up behind her, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, Olivia . . . I’m sorry. I won’t be changing my mind, I’ve already taken my Armsmen’s oaths, I swore to Pierre when I lit his offering--” It had been kindled in haste and in secret, that offering, just my hair and the Armsmens’ and copies of a few documents, including an old ImpSec report. Nothing Richars could burn at the state funeral could match it. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be changing my mind, but--will you wish me luck?”

She laid her cheek briefly against my hand as the gate stuttered open. “Luck, Donna,” she whispered. “When you get back from Beta Colony--I don’t know. I don’t know.” Then she shook loose of me and strode out into the twilight. I couldn’t see her face to read anything from it.

_I’ve really got to get more lights installed here_ , I thought. _First thing, when I am Count._

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the story is a quote from Ekaterin, who says that Donna's transformation must have taken "a great deal of courage, and anger."
> 
> In _A Civil Campaign_ , Dono tells Gregor that he didn't tell anyone about his plans except for his Armsmen and his lawyer, but he would have said that if things had gone down this way, wouldn't he?


End file.
